Bare with me. I’m a little slow on the uptake this week. My habit of skimming the bottom of the pop culture cesspool was distracted by having productive things to do. It was quite the shock to my system. I have since taken to my bed in attempt to recover from such a gargantuan thwart to my weekly routine.
But carry on, I must.
As I was back trolling to the various celebu-sucker blogs, I happened to come across a clip from the start of the week that made we weep bitter tears of betrayal right into my jumbo sized, Central Perk coffee bucket.
In a happy place of nostalgia, a treasured, iconic pop culture sign of beauty is frozen in time as a testament to the giant fart known as the latter half of the 90‘s...
The Rachel Haircut.
Everyone wanted it. But not everyone could have it. Girls far and wide tried in vain to transcend all that is pure and holy to make their hair look like that chick on tv. Sadly, for most of them, their locks were not equipped to handle the troth full of product needed to perfectly sculpt those perfectly razor cut strands into amazingly sweeping layers.
Yet, out of a nation of chicks who worshiped at the House of Aniston every Thursday night, I only knew one fair maiden who could actually pull it off, and not look like she had sticky curtains shellacked to her head.
Yes, out of everyone I knew at the time, only my friend, and then boss, Krissie, and Jennifer Aniston herself, could rock the Rachel as it should be rocked. Everyone else, well...they looked like ass. Myself included.
So imagine my shock and awe when I saw this shizz ripped from the headlines, right out of Aniston's mouth to my shocked soul.
"Let's just say there have been moments I'd rather not relive, like that whole Rachel thing. I love Chris [McMillan, her hairstylist], and he's the bane of my existence at the same time because he started that damn Rachel, which was not my best look. How do I say this? I think it was the ugliest haircut I've ever seen. What I really want to know is, how did that thing have legs?"
Really? Seriously? My ugly hair is offended, as am I.
That shit made her a star. She rose to fame because of the ensemble cast, AND because of her righteous haircut. Her hair should have had its own introduction in the shows opening credits. It wasn’t her acting ability. She’s pretty much the same dimension of one of three chicks in every movie she’s been in since Friends was given a proper burial back in the “days of yo’r.”
I sometimes think that the only reason she has any fan base left is to pay homage to her once glorious haircut. What a bung hole to hate on the hair that launched the coiffed dreams of people who wanted to “be you” in some capacity. It’s like the assholes who have a one hit wonder, and then hate on the song that gave them a lifetime of meaty royalty checks, and their momentous 15 minutes that deemed them worthy enough to be mentioned on a VH1 retrospective.
RUDE. The bees are NOT pleased!
Not to say that she’s not entitled to hate her hair. We all do it. It’s a three times a day habit for me, if not more. My whole life I’ve had the SAME hair. It doesn’t matter who cuts it, what I wash it with, or what’s in it. The fact is, it’s going to lay flat on my head, and make my long face so long that it out-longs SJP by an inch. I’ve learned to live with my hair, in all of it’s shameful, stringy, cow-licked glory.
But Aniston has no excuse. She needs to hate behind closed doors, so the people who have been paying $10 a pop to see her bad movies do so with a forced smile, ever hopeful that she’ll one day do something interesting again. That is, other than cry about Brangenlia taking a multi-cultured poop on her front doorstep, and leaving her a hate note scribbled in Vietnamese that translates into “I’ll be there for youuuuu...”
So endeth my Friday rant,
*A quick note; that little quote on the pic, that was a tweaked nugget of genius from one of the chicks previously mentioned in my last blog. Though she’s long gone, her wit has stayed with me all these years. I pay true homage to her with this punk ass pic. *nods*